


the rose among the roses

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, CBC 2018 reference, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Handholding, Hugging, Rule 63 Arjuna, Tsundere, these two are so cute they will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "His first impression of Arjuna was a dark face—her skin was considerably darker than his—framed by a darker hair, kept at bay by the force of a neat, twin ponytail with dark blue ribbons, and she was pouting, heavily. She wasn’t toting a toy or a plushie, and her arms were crossed over her chest—like an adult’s—while her dark brown eyes darted here and there at the congregation of adults talking around them, with obvious displeasure.Something about her immediately draws Karna to her. He doesn’t really know why."Karna and Arjuna, growing up together in five vignettes. Or, four times Arjuna cried and Karna didn't hold her hand, and the one time he did.





	the rose among the roses

**Author's Note:**

> I'm SO in love with this ship and this AU. I'd blame @RaspberryLJuice over at Twitter for fanning the flames of my hell, lol. And yes, Karna would _definitely_ spoil fem!Juna.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

> " _The rose among the roses / Doesn't resemble another rose_."

_-_ **Robert Desnos**

**-Morning Glory-**

The first time he saw her cry, it was when their mother died and his father passed away.

He doesn’t know what happened to her father, exactly, and he hadn’t met his mother for years ever since his mother remarried, but later on, he discovered that she never really know her father. At that time, they’ve barely met each other, and if other children felt resentment and jealousy at the mere thought of meeting—and living—with another child that was the result of their parent’s next marriage, Karna only felt curiosity and perhaps something like vague resignation. Then again, most called him mature for his age. 

He was only ten.

His first impression of Arjuna was a dark face—her skin was considerably darker than his—framed by a darker hair, kept at bay by the force of a neat, twin ponytail with dark blue ribbons, and she was pouting, heavily. She wasn’t toting a toy or a plushie, and her arms were crossed over her chest—like an adult’s—while her dark brown eyes darted here and there at the congregation of adults talking around them, with obvious displeasure.

Something about her immediately draws Karna to her. He doesn’t really know why.

Then comes the mandatory, perfunctory introduction, the handing off to their new guardian—a distant uncle that Karna barely knew, but who seemed kind—and everyone leaves, leaving their smattering of small talk and the atmosphere of loss and loneliness behind them.

It was heavy. Their uncle talked to them a bit, but Arjuna—still so much like an adult despite her young age (she was younger than him by a couple of years)—refused to talk to him, and Karna did all the answering for him, with the knowingness of an older brother that had begin to form inside of him. Something else was crystallizing, something that tasted a lot like loss and grief and protectiveness.

No child should lost their parent early in life, much less two.

Once their uncle bids them goodbye—eventually—for the time being, Arjuna shoots him a glance, a sullen look, and Karna shifts closer awkwardly on the couch, not knowing what to say and how to say it. Silence reigns between them, untouchable and inevitable, and Karna shifts again in his seat.

“Arjuna,” he said, not unkindly, and she spared him another sullen look. He looked at her, and it dawns on him that her mother must have—used to did—done her hair, or make her breakfast, much like how his father used to make him special dinner every Sunday, and took him to school every day. It was an unfortunate coincidence, he heard the adults said or told him as much, but it also occurs to him that no adult has ever understood the pain of a child. This realisation ripped him open. “May I call you Juna?”

There was another silence, still a sullen one—it seemed to hang around Arjuna like a dark, disastrous cloud, and it doesn’t suit her at all—and when she finally speaks, her voice was high and clear and silvery, like the trickle of a stream, or the aftermath of rain. “You may,” she simply said, still clutching herself, as if that would keep the monsters out.

“Juna,” Karna said, trying on her name and tried his best to hold it safe in his mouth, to keep the monsters out, at least for the time being, and also tried to give her a small smile. “Do you want to go outside? I think the rain had stopped.”

She looked surprised, caught off-guard, and Karna smiled. _I’m sorry for your loss_ , the adults had said, and _take good care of your little sister, now_. He wasn’t really trying to. The boy that he was was simply trying to do the right thing. To his own surprise, Juna nodded, although she kept her chin up, haughtily, and Karna thought he saw the elusive trail of tears from her eyes, but she quickly rubbed them off. Karna pretended not to see them, averting his gaze for a bit. 

Juna rubbed her tears off and jumped off the couch with a vigour that startled Karna. “Let’s go now,” she said, with a tone that most adults—and children—would have considered to be bossy, but Karna took it kindly, for he was hers for life the moment he gazed upon her. “Uncle will be looking for us for dinner soon.”

“Do you like rainy days?” Karna asked, following her as she walked off hurriedly to the back garden.

“Idiot,” Juna says, her chin high, like a queen from another era, or a warrior princess, and Karna thought that she might as well be, with that disposition. “Of course I do.”

He wanted to tease her about it hiding her tears, but sensed that it was too early in their budding relationship for that. “I don’t usually wear my hair like this,” she prattled on, sounding so harassed, “but somehow Aunt Sarasvati thinks that this is proper and ladylike. I hate her.”

“Mm,” Karna responded, absentmindedly. She had met the aunt Juna mentioned, and he quite liked her. She seemed nice enough, unlike some people. There was another silence, and Juna picked an empty swing and sat on it. Uncle Vishnu had quite some children of his own, but they’d all grown up. The swing, however, was well-maintained. Karna automatically followed her. “I’ve met her twice, I think. She gave me cookies.”

Juna scoffed. “She _doesn’t_ do your hair a certain way,” she insisted, beckoning him closer. “Push the swing. You _could_ use a brush or two, you know. Mother says that a boy must always be well-groomed.”

Karna was astonished. Not merely in the way that she bossed him around as if it was natural to do—no, he was indeed hers for life—but at the way Juna acted, in general. It was so different from the sullen, I-wouldn’t-even-look-at-you little girl that he saw earlier. “It’s wet,” he told her, but did what she said anyways, and she scoffed again. “Mother says a lot of things,” he continued, careful in everything he does, not only in pushing the swing like Juna asked, but also careful not to touch her, even if he wanted to. Strangely, it’s not because she felt unreal, like all of this, but because out of everything—the talks, the way he was spirited away, his father’s death—Arjuna felt the most real. Karna wanted to touch her, wanted to make sure of that fact. But he didn’t dare yet.

There was another silence that was only broken by the sound of the swing, and Juna finally broke it. “She’s gone forever, isn’t she? I heard that’s what happens to your father, too.” 

Karna doesn’t know how to respond to it. “Stop,” Juna commanded, and Karna stopped pushing her, resting his hands in the chains. “That’s how the adults talked about it, anyway,” she continued, “that she’s gone now…she wouldn’t be coming home, would she?”

There was an unmistakable pain in her voice, a sadness that transcends words, and Karna remained quiet, letting her cry her silent tears as her small body shakes. He leans forward, lending her his warmth, and felt her quiet down slowly but surely. “We have Uncle Vishnu, now,” he told her, quietly, touching her hair lightly. “And I’ll do your hair every day. You don’t have to wear your hair all proper and ladylike if you don’t want to, Juna.”

She still sniffled, rubbing off her leftover tears, and turned around to face him. He could see that her eyes are still wet, but they are sharp, demanding, and he wanted not only to hug her, he wanted to hold her hand, too. 

“Do you promise?” she said, thunderstorms of a little girl in her eyes, wide and almond-shaped. “Do you promise, Karna?”

“I do,” Karna said, and it was the first time she saw her smile, although it was gone as quickly as the rain.

* * *

**-Marigold-**

The second time he saw her cry was when their uncle passed away. Karna had only recently come-of-age, but Arjuna was still in that awkward age when the world is still too big for words, but her mind desperately wanted to make sense of it, and everything felt wrong, garish, even her own body. He remembered that a couple of months before the passing of their uncle, she was still yelling at him to keep out of her room, that she doesn’t need goodnight kisses anymore, not from him, nor from Uncle Vishnu. Karna knows that she must have felt a great deal of guilt, for she was still as turbulent as the day she arrived, a storm in the skin of a girl, and she argued a great deal with their uncle in just about everything. It just happens that both men who live with her was patient with her.

Yet she wears her sadness—it was unmistakable, for they had lived with their new guardian for years and Karna knows more than anyone that she’d grown affectionate of their uncle, even if she sometimes disapproves of him—like a mask, like a queen who received her guests gracefully. She is not yet an adult—still—but she mingles with them like one, and no one dares treat her like a child, for she wears her head high and her voice even. Even Aunt Sarasvati, who made a remark about how much they’ve both grown, did not patronise her, although she did hover around them, protectively, like a mother hen who doesn’t quite know how to express her sentiments. 

Juna doesn’t have to deal with the legalities of their uncle’s death—it was Karna’s job, as the oldest—but she insisted to be included in the process. Their uncle left them sufficient funds, a good place to live, and just about enough to keep them from being sent to an orphanage or any other such things. Karna still felt awkward about it all—a little feeble, as it stands, lightheaded, still, from yet another sudden loss—being the new head of the household, but he knows that Juna depended solely on him now. 

When their guests are gone—and the lawyer, who promised them a proper meeting a couple of days later, respectfully giving them time to mourn like the two adults that they aren’t—the house feels emptier than ever, and heavy, as if all of this time their guardian had shouldered the burden for them. Karna could still see the swings outside, unused for a couple of years now, a little wet due to the rain earlier—it was rainy season again—and Juna had his back on him, washing the dishes, her braid still as immaculate as it was that morning. She did her hair herself now, already proving—wanting to prove—that she was much too big not only for his goodnight kisses and stories, but also the promise they’d made years ago, when they became siblings and their fates entwined. 

They didn’t speak for a while, continuing to clean up after the guests, listening to the distant sounds of thunder outside. 

“Juna,” Karna finally said, breaking the silence, bringing the rest of the dishes to the sink as she washes them, stopping beside her. He’d only realised that she was crying, but she refused to look at him and instead furiously scrubbing at the plate that she was washing. “I’m thinking of opening something with that money. That way, we both would have a job and something to do while you don’t have to worry about continuing going to school,” he explained, gently taking the plate off her hands, “I’m thinking of opening a flower shop. What do you think?”

_It’d be just us now, you and me, was what he was trying to say_ , and also _I’m sorry for (y)our loss_ , but he doesn’t know how to say it. He was never very good at communicating his feelings, and Karna knows Arjuna is a prideful being. He doesn’t want to offend her pride with something cliched, something straight out of Hallmark cards. Besides, both of them had heard such things enough to last a lifetime. They are both lost children, and grief is something that they have to swallow in order to live on.

“Do whatever you like,” Juna replied, finally, and Karna noticed that one of her hands curled into a fist, and he frowned. “I’m in no position to contradict you. Just…just make sure that whatever you do, you…”

Karna heard something like ‘ _take care of us_ ’, but it was covered with a heavy sob, and Juna dropped the glass she was holding to the sink. Karna gave him time, turned his face away. He wanted to comfort her, but he was never very good at comforting, either, and Arjuna’s pride doesn’t allow room for weakness. It has always been this way. 

“I am sorry,” Arjuna said, once she’d cooled down, although little sobs still racked her body, and it reminded Karna of their first meeting, the meeting that smells like petrichor and loss, Juna’s hair tied in twin tails. She wiped away her tears—once, gracefully—and forced herself to meet Karna’s gaze, her voice cool and controlled. “I got carried away. But if that’s what you wanted to do…then you have my approval,” she said, turning away again, “after all, it’s just you and me now, isn’t it? It’s not very ideal, and I don’t think someone as clumsy as you can run a store, but we have to make do. And I’ll…I’ll lend you a hand.”

There was a pause where Juna places her hand close enough for Karna to reach, to hold, but he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, smelling the fragrance of her hair. “Thank you, Juna,” he said, not only lending her his warmth but also kissing her forehead, embracing her earnestly. “I promise I will take care of us.”

Juna was clearly blushing, and for some reason, she hated herself more for relaxing against his body, for letting her sobs come out once more, and the embrace only lasted peacefully for a moment before she batted him away. “Yes, you better do that, you idiot,” she said, wiping her tears again. “Now will you let me do my dishes in peace? You can mop the floor or something. Go find something else to do, Karna.”

Karna doesn’t really want to leave her alone, not really, but at the same time, he sensed that she needed it. “Yes,” he told her, nodding and pulling away. “I’ll do that, Juna.”

Perhaps he caught the flash of a smile, though that could be a trick of the light.

* * *

**-Jasmine-**

The third time was when someone broke her heart, a couple of years later. It wasn’t her first time, Karna knows, their parents’ and their uncle’s deaths not only devastated them but also broke their hearts, but this time it was different. He was with a customer when it happened, finishing the purchase of a small bouquet of purple bougenvilla and yellow roses. He heard the front door being opened noisily, and then Juna comes in like a hurricane, not even saying hello, her twin tails of a hair sweeping behind her as she ran up the stairs.

“I apologise,” Karna said, with the slightest of smiles of the old lady he was with, a regular, “that was my little sister.”

“I know,” the old lady said with a knowing smile. “She helped me out a couple of times. Now go, go to her. I’m done here.”

Karna gave her a slight bow and gave her his gratitude, and put up the closed sign after she left. It was 3 pm, sales was slow, and Juna’s behaviour definitely raised some questions. She’s usually home right after school unless she has an extracurricular activity or the like, and then take over his shift, but this time despite her punctualness, she was acting very strangely. She’d never done this before, not even when she’s really upset at him.

He climbed up the stairs with care, closing the side door to the shop behind him, making his way to Arjuna’s room. It was the first room on the right, and Karna knocked at the door carefully. There was no answer at first.

“GO AWAY,” yelled a muffled voice after he knocked for the second time, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

That was such a typical, cliched response, but Karna raised an eyebrow nonetheless. “Are you going to talk to the wall then? I heard they make for an excellent listener.”

“Shut up!” Arjuna retorted, with all the force of a teenage girl. The distant ramblings of thunder had nearly grown up to be a full-force hurricane. “I said, I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU, KARNA. Are you fucking deaf or something?”

“No,” Karna hums his response calmly. “Come on, Juna, you don’t even have to tell me what’s going on. I just wanted to know if you’re alright or not.”

There was a long, long pause that feels like forever, before Karna heard Juna unlocking her door, and he could see her in all her glory, smeared mascara and messy school uniform. She indeed looked like a hurricane, Karna remembered reading a quote somewhere about why hurricanes are named after people. At the same time, it was obvious that she’d just cried.

“Fine,” she told him, brusquely, crossing her arms over her chest, “you get what you wanted, for once, _brother_. I’m alright. See?”

Karna looked her over, and a small smile played on his lips. “Then that means you can take over my shift.”

Juna snorted, her dark eyes flashing. “I have homework. Unless,” she added haughtily, raising her chin, “you’re gonna help me with them.”

Karna smiled, offering an open palm as a peace offering. “You know I’ll always help you out, Juna.”

She stared at it, but didn’t take it. Still, there was a flash of something—perhaps a little sunshine after the rain, although quickly, quickly, it was gone, like gold at the end of a rainbow—and she uncrossed her arms, relaxing slightly, letting out a sigh. “It was a boy,” she said, and Karna raised an eyebrow in response, but didn’t say anything just yet. “I know, it’s stupid,” she added, defensively, “and I’ve told you and Uncle Vishnu time and time again that I wouldn’t fall for them. But there was this boy…” she trailed off, eyes distant for a moment, and Karna wondered, and waited patiently. “Anyway. There was this boy and I…” she scratches her arm as if it was itchy, a nervous tic, averting her gaze. “I liked him. A lot.”

“Mm,” Karna said, nodding, pulling his hand back. “It does tend to happen. Carry on,”

Juna’s eyes flashed again, this time with annoyance, as if judging Karna for his lack of response. But she did pick up the thread. “Well,” she said, hurriedly, “he didn’t like me back. And he said a bunch of rude things about me,” she shrugged, with all the carelessness in the world, “that’s all. I thought— well, I thought he was kind, like you.”

There was another silence in which Juna gamely averted his gaze, and Karna touched him gently by the arm. “I’m sorry, Juna,” he told her, pushing a stray lock out of her face, and patting her in the head, lightly. “I’m sorry he hurt you,” he ran his fingers through her dark hair, “I’m sorry that you were wrong about him.”

He felt Juna stiffen, but then she leans forward and grabs his shirt, burying her face, sobbing silently. Karna lets her, putting his arms loosely around her. 

“I’m sorry,” Juna said, after she pulled away, quickly straightening herself up and rubbing her eyes, “you’ve probably need to change now. You can go, Karna. I’ll tidy up for a bit and then I’ll handle the store.”

Very quickly, she was Arjuna again, perceptive and controlled, and her tears tucked away behind an iron will. Karna suppressed a smile, patting her head for the last time. “If you need any help, call me.”

“I won’t,” she said, haughtily. “I’m fine on my own, brother.”

“Good,” Karna said, turning to leave, but she grabs the back of his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, fidgeting, and Karna couldn’t stop staring at her fingers, and his shirt smelled like morning glory and something else, now, “now shoo, before I changed my mind.”

He didn’t take her hand and hold it, either, but later on, he thinks that he should have.

* * *

**-Sunflower-**

Six months later, they were arguing.

It just so happens by dinner. Arjuna had been sullen and moody for the past couple of days, and this time Karna couldn’t, for the life of him, figured out why. She left her food mostly untouched, and already brusquely murmured something that sounded like “good night”. It was Karna’s duty to clean up tonight, since she did the cooking, but this time, he won’t let her get away.

“Juna,” he called out, a little loud, since she obviously was ignoring him and won’t even meet his gaze. At the sound of her name, however, she frowned, and turned slightly, her expression just as sullen as she’d been for the past week. Karna wondered why.

“What?” she responded, defensively. At this point, Karna was familiar enough with the tone to understand that she doesn’t want to talk about it, or him to push it, or both, in whatever way. Regardless, Karna pushed on.

“Is there something wrong?” Karna asked, not unkindly. He waited for her response, as she clearly debated silently whether to stay or to just go to her room. She ended up doing the former, but with her arms crossed over her chest. Another friendly gesture. 

“Nothing,” she said, with undisguised hostility. “Nothing is wrong at all, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t pry into my own business all the damn time.”

Karna tilted his head, still seated, genuinely concerned. He put his eating utensils down. “Did I pry into your business all the time? Is that how you feel, Juna?”

She curled her hand into a fist, and anger flashed in her eyes. For a second, Karna thought that she was going to slam her fist on the table. “Do you want to know how I feel, _brother_? Fine. Nothing is wrong except that I’m stuck here, in this boring flower shop, with no career prospects, in the middle of nowhere, with _you_. _That’s_ what’s wrong, Karna.”

Karna was honestly surprised, and he raised himself from his seat, calmly. “Arjuna. That’s enough.”

“No,” she retorted, hand still curling into a fist, “that’s only the beginning of it. You asked how I feel, Karna. I answered.”

Karna felt his own anger rising inside of him, like fire, anger that he rarely felt, especially towards her, the only person in his life whom he’d give his life to. Whom he trusted fully. “Listen—“ he said, was surprised at the force in his own voice and how his own hand curled into a fist, and how he brought it down on to the table. Arjuna is the only person who could have this effect on him, and he could see his own surprise mirrored on the other’s face, so different from him, yet so alike in so many ways. “If you don’t like any of this, you could just leave. I’ll give you the money.”

He regretted it as soon as the words leave his mouth, and Juna brought a hand over to cover her mouth. A tear fell down, and then two, and she didn’t bother to wipe them off. She simply turned away. “So that’s your solution. That’s how you feel,” she said, accusingly, and Karna could only think of how unfair it was, that she was the one starting it, but he had never felt sorrier in his life, and if he could take it back, he would. “Get rid of me? A good solution, huh brother? I complained to you about my future and you told me to go away?” she scoffed, and Karna knows she was about to leave. _Don’t_ , said a regretful voice in his head, _don’t leave_. “What a _good_ , _charitable_ brother you are, Karna. Thanks.”

She left, and Karna could feel his arm reaching out, reaching to her, but she was gone.

**xx**

Three days later, she apologised.

A cold silence settles between them during that period, as if an arctic ice age had prematurely settled in the small flower shop/house that they inhabited. Arjuna still helps him with the shop after school, still wears the ribbons that he bought for her with his savings and the flowers that he left in front of her room every morning in her lush, black hair, but she only talks to him when she absolutely had to, and in the small house turned arctic, the silence was unbearable. Arjuna herself was a force of nature, and her silence was much of the same. It was inevitable, and it was there, like a ghastly presence, dogging Karna’s every step, in every inch of the house and the shop, was there at every turn, and he’d prepared a hyacinth and white and pink tulips bouquet for her because not only there’s the fact that he can’t help it anymore, he also missed her and the simplicity they shared in their everyday life.

Surprisingly, she did the apologising first. 

“I wanna talk to you,” she said, in that hour of the shift change, hands on her hips, gaze direct and unapologetic. Karna had hidden the bouquet for her, but it was now somewhere quite conspicuous since he intended to give it to her, and he was quite certain that she’d seen it. 

“What is it, Juna?” he asked, returning her gaze. He could still feel guilt in the pit of his stomach when he looked at her, and it takes effort not to look away, or to not merely jump to his apology.

“I- uh,” she started, a light blush colouring her cheeks, “wanted to, uh, apologise. For the things I’ve said to you.”

Karna was plainly surprised, but at the same time, he cursed himself for not seeing this coming. Juna was prideful, and a handful besides, but she’d always come around. They always come around. Juna could clearly see the surprise on his face, for she’d started fidgeting again. “How about it?” she continued, harshly, but Karna knows that she doesn’t mean it, “do you accept my apology or not?”

“I do,” Karna immediately answered. “I’d like to apologise too, Juna. For…saying that you should just leave,” he’d unconsciously started toying with his rolled-up sleeves, “I- I didn’t mean it. At all.”

To his surprise—again—Arjuna’s visage broke into a sudden, wide smile, and she embraced him, quickly and lightly. Her body felt light against his, and she smelt like lilies and roses. When she pulled away, she had her hands on her hips once more, tilting her head up to look at him better with her signature prideful expression. “So, does this means you have something for me?” she asked him, playfully, since it was their tradition to give the other something if they fight with each other. 

“Actually, I do,” Karna smiled gently at her, and reached behind the counter to fetch the bouquet he’d specially crafted for her. “I’m sorry, Juna.”

She looked genuinely surprised—as surprised as he was when she apologised—and she accepted it gracefully, always a princess in her own rights. Karna was simply astonished—again—when she tiptoed up and kissed him on the cheek, and he felt blood rushing to his cheeks. “Thank you, brother,” she said, and laughed, her laugh like a faerie song. “Did you know that my classmates and friends had a crush on you? It was ridiculous, I know. I told them that you were the most clumsy, idiotic person I’ve ever known.”

“Mm,” Karna hummed along, nodding, still blushing, still cannot believe any of this, “that sounds about right, Juna.”

“But you _are_ a good brother to me,” she said, hands behind her back, smiling, and Karna thought the look suits her, “thank you for that.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, but he felt the ache, then. But he still doesn’t realise it. At that time, he thought that it was just because she was so beautiful—more beautiful than all the flowers in the Heaven and Earth combined—but it wasn’t that. 

“Anyway,” she said, her smile fading away, her expression reverting back to her normal expression, tainted with a little friendly disgust, “don’t just stand there like a fool. I’m gonna reopen the shop,” she said, hefting the bouquet he gave her, “and I’ll put this on a vase. “Go and make yourself useful, or get some rest, whatever. Just get out of my way.”

Karna could only nod, and usher himself away as she told him to do, still astonished. But he smiled a little smile in private after he was alone, for they were in good terms again, and what’s more, she thought of him as a good brother.

A part of him yearned for something more, but he did not yet have a name for it yet.

* * *

** -Rose- **

She surprises him again when she asked him to be her chaperone for her school dance. She was graduating—Karna couldn’t help but feel a little wistful about it, but mostly proud—and she needed a partner for the prom night. She was busy for the past few weeks, citing extracurricular activity—Karna knows that she’s the president of the student government, among other things—and so it surprised her when she appeared early, carrying a large paper bag.

“Karna,” she says, bustling into the store—there are quite a few customers around, but they had their two extra staff around—her footsteps quick and certain and something playful and fae-like playing on the corner of her lips, “can I talk to you? It’ll be only for a moment.”

“Of course, Juna,” Karna said, smiling slightly at his little sister, motioning at her to follow him into the staff room. They’ve had some improvements over the years, and the extra staff and the staff room was two of them. “I’ll just be a moment,” he told his staff.

“What about?” he asked, the moment they were safely tucked in the staff room and Arjuna closes the door behind her, with an air of nervousness that was usually—well, never—absent from her person. 

“Oh, don’t be so stiff about it,” she chided, huffing lightly, “it’s not like I create trouble for you. No. In fact—“ she produced a large box from the paper bag she was toting, “—I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Karna said, teasing her. “You rarely have something for me other than the usual trouble. But let me see,” he says, taking the present box from her hand. It was black, medium-sized, and the ribbon was crimson, Karna’s favourite colour the way deep blue was Juna’s. He raised an eyebrow slightly at the heft, pretending to examine it for more than necessary to annoy Arjuna, and, feeling Juna’s sufficient annoyance, he finally opens the box. A slow yet sure smile spreads across his face. “This isn’t bad.”

“Do you like it?” Juna asks, wringing her hands nervously, staring at him hopefully. Karna knows that a single word from him could make or break her heart.  


“Does this means you’re asking me for your school dance?” he asked in return, because inside, there was a three-piece suit in white and blue, Arjuna’s favourite colours, clean-pressed and he knows would fit him better than any old sweater, and a matching corsage in blue, in the shape of a morning glory, her favourite flower. He ran his fingers lightly across it, feeling the soft fabric yield to his touch. 

“Well, I’m going to need a chaperone,” she said, and with a slow, devilish smile added, “and I know you’ve bought a corsage for me too. You just need to buy me a dress in return, and I’ll consider us even.”

“I took your colours,” Karna said, with a shrug, looking her over, “perhaps creme and crimson, to match the corsage?”

Juna smiled, broadly. Karna knows that the colour switch was intentional. After all, she’d been complaining far too long about the colours in his wardrobe, and they tried shopping for other colours once. “Deal. I’ll do your hair,” she says, still smiling mischievously. “It’d started to get into your eyes. Don’t worry, I won’t braid it or anything,” she added, with a laugh.

“Juna,” Karna says, because he sensed that their conversation had started to come to a close. 

“What?”

“I only have one question,” he told her, calmly, closing the box again. “How did you get my measurements?”

She grins, as wide as Karna had seen her, and he liked that look on her, too. “Remember when I hugged you suddenly? Oh, and I used both my savings and took a side job to buy that, so you don’t have to rent a suit. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She looked so smug and accomplished, Karna had to cross the distance between them and pulled her in for a forehead kiss. “Thank you, Juna,” he murmured, “this means a lot to me.”

She looked up at him, and, blushing, turned away. “J- just make sure you get my dress in time!”

“I will,” Karna told her, and, this time around, taking her hand in his. Her eyes widened, but she smiled, despite the blush on her cheeks. “I promise.”

She nodded, not pulling away just yet, but held his hand too, and he knows that it was just the first of many to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I _might_ start a series of this, though I have to finish my Magus AU first. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading, comments  & suggestions welcome <3
> 
> hmu @ twitter: raginghel


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